


Civilized Entertainments

by VulpusTumultum



Series: The Tevinter's Templar [9]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, Dildos, M/M, Oral Sex, flirtation by snark, smutfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 14:05:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4022659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VulpusTumultum/pseuds/VulpusTumultum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lyos had technically started it, prodding at Dorian with that straight-faced setup of his, repeating some absolute trash from a propaganda book about Tevinter mage orgies as if he believed it, clearly wanting to provoke a reaction. And no matter how much Dorian knew the elf was doing it completely for that reason, he still had not managed to keep himself from walking right into it, or even strolling along into worse.</p><p>Or better, depending on how one considers such things, since the their usual teasing game turned into an offer of 'i'll show you my ropes if you'll show me yours.'</p><p>Eventually, Dorian really will stop even subconsciously reading the somewhat introverted Inquisitor's public face- or his being Dalish- as Lyos being inexperienced, shy, or less adventuresome when it comes to being with a lover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Civilized Entertainments

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure exactly where this fits into main timeline for the series, other than vague hand-wavey "they've been together a while, but clearly not a HUGELY long time". Probably nests into Private Readings somewhere, first the surprise over books, and then Dorian gets hit with this.

The mage still was less than completely happy that his Amatus had made the decision to take the very lyrium he encouraged others to get _off_ of- not because he worried what Lyos' intentions with it would ever be, but simply because of how harmful it could become to the warrior himself. But at times like this- smelling it on the elf's skin, it was impossible to find it anything but attractive- as if the man even needed further aid in that- work him into a sweat and the scent was strong enough to _taste_ at close quarters.

The problem currently was that he was the only one breaking into a sweat, and Lyos wasn't being nearly close enough to taste in any other way, at least, never for long.

“ _Fasta vass-_ you _tease_ -” Dorian gasped and wanted desperately to buck, to arch towards the shorter man, as tonight he was learning yet again that his lover was not nearly so inexperienced as it was tempting to think he was based on public demeanor- or admittedly very _very_ shem assumptions about what entertainment options 'rustic' nomads actually had despite the constant traveling and fighting to survive.

Lyos had _technically_ started it, prodding at Dorian with that straight-faced setup of his, repeating some absolute _trash_ from a propaganda book about Tevinter mage orgies as if he believed it, clearly wanting to provoke a reaction. And no matter how much Dorian _knew_ the elf was doing it completely for that reason, he still had not managed to keep himself from walking right into it, or even walking into _worse_.

“ _Well of course, how else could our trash authors or frustrated would-be-scholars come up with such ridiculously similar ideas for what you lot get up to in the woods. Perhaps though you're just becoming interested in or jealous of the various perks of living in civilizations where there are discreet craftsmen and shops with very inventive product ideas?”_

“ _Yes, our lack of actual silken ropes and scarves truly is a detriment to variety. Are you really so certain that there's no discreet crafting of things not meant just for hunting, gathering, and all our tedious survival things, however?”_

“ _Aren't your land boats a little limited in space and camps a little crowded for anything discreet much less any collecting of toys?” Dorian had been mostly joking, but it really_ wasn't _one of those things he'd ever really given any thought to. Knowing that stories of strange and 'exotic' excesses were too ridiculous for words somehow always had translated to 'not up to much'. He flushed a bit, caught again in unthinking assumptions, but fortunately, Lyos again was willing to be more amused than offended._

“ _But there's so much space outside of camps, my dear 'Vint. Sentries on duty try and ensure there's a very nice safe zone for anyone with a little time on their hands. And worse comes to worse, there's always ways to keep things quiet when no one else is needing to be within an aravel. As for collecting, why bother when anyone can improvise? No silk ropes doesn't mean no rope at all, and there's always the halla harnesses.”_

“ _...At this point I really cannot tell if you are joking or serious, Amatus.”_

“ _Mm. So how many civilized toys have you in your own collection right now? Of course, none are up here are they, for some reason?”_

And somehow that had led onward to _this._ Of _course_ Dorian knew there was rope that Lyos kept in his travel packs, but that hadn't even been the start- his own _clothing_ had been used even as it was peeled off him by the lustful elf, who linked shorter buckles and straps and trapped the mage's wrists behind him, _both_ their belts used as well, and then the actual blasted rope. Nothing made for this sort of thing, he could feel a dig of metal clasp, the harsher feel of the decidedly _not_ silken rope.

And yet nothing was arranged so it dug in too much, too tenderly- oh there were places he _was_ going to have marks, and he was certain that had been arranged _deliberately_. Certainly the loop of the rope that went right over his chest and rubbed at his nipples if he arched or toyed with what slight give his arms or thighs had been given was meant to be torture. Silk had never been nearly so intensely distracting against his sensitive nubs, or where it did go around thighs without a layer of padding- and in some places, where the rope was tightest, there was some padding given, more clothing off their bodies, now back on his in very unorthodox ways.

“ _If anything's uncomfortable, if you need me to stop, is_ dareth _a good word for you to remember,_ ma'ara?”

_Dorian actually had felt a tightening lurch at that, mostly further anticipation but a welter of other emotions, from shock, almost worry that Lyos even had thought of such a thing- or was it the actual caring tone, the briefly far less wicked kisses-_

“ _Of course I can remember that. Someday I really insist on knowing... what the words mean-_ Effusi estis! _How can a man answer with you_ distracting _like- that.”_

Perhaps it _looked_ barbaric and savage compared to 'civilized' methods or artistry, this was all about efficiency rather than grace- but looks were for once not particularly Dorian's concern, legs forced into kneeling with thighs spread achingly wide, and his lover teasing him with kisses, digging fingers and brief grinding in against him from behind before drawing back so there was no contact at all. Lyos half crawling, prowling around to claim his mouth, to stroke along his hard cock, already beginning to bead at the head.

“ _Next time, feel free to bring whatever you have and we'll give civilized a try.”_

Pushed forward, _toppled_ over and helpless over enough cushions that his body had support, and no way to see what Lyos was up to- feeling something slick and oily poured onto his skin, running down- or rather up his back one way, and down his ass so that it dripped a little along his balls the other way, making him swear, and almost whimper in anticipation and need.

Lyos chuckled behind him, “Enough support? And still soft and pampered compared to a log or halla saddle, hm?”

“You _must_ be joking-” Dorian felt another flush of heat and found himself all too vividly picturing if this _wasn't_ a bedroom, with all the probable discomfort and dirt a fucking in the woods might entail.

He wasn't _about_ to freely admit it suddenly was an _attractive_ fantasy. Meanwhile the oil was running down him, running thin, not being put to constructive use, and that was enough to make him try and buck back to where he could still feel the elf behind him, so _close_. “ _Amatus_ get _on_ with it-”

“Tch, manners,” and hands take him, fingers smearing the oil but only teasingly, he felt lips at the small of his back, skin against his ass, as the elf leaned in close and made contact to kiss him. Dorian couldn't not writhe, and press back against him, groaning and giving in-

“ _Amatus please!”_ to be rewarded with firmer strokes, fingers sliding the oil around his ass even if to do so Lyos pulled back, another hand sliding down to get what was on his balls and rub it up onto his twitching cock. Dorian shuddered and gasped with short-lived relief, breath harsh as he was stroked and pleasured at the front, and fingers started working his tight pucker in back. But Lyos still did it to torment almost more than anything, fingers only going shallowly into his ass and some of the strokes far too light to be enough. The mage found himself whimpering tightly again, and trying to back his ass into the fingers toying with it, only to have the fingers leave entirely.

Before he could gasp out another plea or demand, there was more oil and then something else was pressing into him, and it was _not_ any part of his lover- well slicked, but hard, smooth, and unfamiliar as it stretched him further, his cry one of surprise that became another groan. Whatever it was, it wasn't _quite_ as thick as Lyos, but the shape, ridges, bumps, it left him shuddering and trying to catch his breath, arching against the bonds.

“Dorian, is it unpleasant, should I not use this?”

“By all means... keep using it- _fasta vass_ \- what-” he was panting, and unable to sound nearly as collected as he wished, voice pleading in spite of himself.

“Mmm, I did tell you there _are_ some things even savage nomads make for entertainment. I could have improvised here, too, but since my aravel chest was delivered-” _how did the elf sound so calm_? Huskier, hungrier, but not really letting the mage know entirely if and how much he was ached for, though his actions spoke louder than his words perhaps, as he angled the thing differently for the next thrust in.

Dorian cried out, the dildo hitting that sweet spot within him with its smooth, rounded end, and he became more used to the way it rubbed as it went in and out, moaning with heat as his pleasure built, gasping Lyos' name. The elf was no longer giving his cock attention at all, simply bringing his lover _so very close_ to release with just that thrusting, turning and angling-

Then stopped, the toy in Dorian's shuddering and clenching ass like a plug, the ceasing of further sensation making the Tevinter mage cry out in frustrated need, “ _Progredi! Amatus! Mihi placent-”_

Lyos pulled him up and turned him, the look on his face hot with his own frustrated lust, fingers into Dorian's hair, bringing and keeping him in for a kiss as the man moaned. He reached to find the right buckles, and freed the Tevinter's arms and wrists, and at the freedom the only thing Dorian could even do was hungrily reach to embrace and cling, gasping. The fierce kiss ended with a bite to his already swollen lower lip, and the kneeling elf pushing his head down meaningfully. _Finally_ Dorian could kiss down skin, be close enough to smell the near-ozone of lyrium, taste his skin and appreciate that he _had_ been making Lyos sweat a little after all.

“Dorian, suck me first- I _need_ your mouth, _ma'ara,_ all those pretty sounds you make and words you say-”

Able to grab at hips and brace himself, despite his legs still bound, all Dorian could do was comply, the elf's prick hard and ready. The way Lyos had said ' _first'_ had sent fire down his spine, full of implied promise that once he'd had enough of the mage's mouth, he would give his lover what he craved, one way or another.

Now Lyos was making the beautiful sounds, no longer keeping himself in check, groaning as Dorian sucked at him desperately, and dug fingers into his hips hard enough to bruise, though not completely stopping the elf from beginning to rock himself, thrusting, Before truly fucking Dorian's mouth, he gasped something unintelligible in elven, and urged Dorian up for a kiss again, reaching around and pulling the sex toy free from him, pushing him back once he'd tasted himself, to get between bound legs and thrust into the more-than-ready mage.

Dorian grabbed at the bedding, fingers tearing at the sheets as his ass was lifted, his body curled, so that Lyos could fuck him as deep and thoroughly as possible.

“ _Mir'nuvenin, Dorian_ \- Creators, you're so-!” whatever he said next was elven, and gasped out breathlessly.

Dorian was in no real state to listen well, as Lyos really did give him what he'd been needing, driving against that tight bundle of nerves within him, getting a hand around his cock as well, though that was hardly needed. Trying to stay muffled, quiet, was still such an automatic thing for him that he moved one of his arms to do so, but the elf managed to grab it, keeping him from doing so, so that when he came, there was nothing restraining his voice as Dorian cried out his _Amatus'_ name.

Lyos swore in relief, and let himself go as well, filling the mage's ass, while Dorian's seed stuck to and ran down both their bodies. The elf kissed at what he could reach while his lover fell back and tried to regain his breath. Then, slowly, Lyos pulled out, and tugged at more knots so that aching legs could be straightened, making Dorian gasp and arch at the freedom.

Strong fingers stroked along his legs, soothing the twitching muscles, and the moved down, almost a crawl, to also kiss at skin, and get ropes fully free. Lyos found the bottle of oil, and gently began to also care for the places skin _had_ rubbed somewhat raw, until Dorian managed to sit up, and grabbed him, to pull him in for a kiss, the elf settling astride his lap. To the side, almost off the bed, the mage now could see exactly what had been used on him, smoothly polished, either some very pale wood or perhaps some manner of antler or horn, it almost could have seemed completely decorative and unrelated to the task it had been put to.

Dorian's curiosity about it for the moment was not particularly great, sliding fingers into pale hair, “You,” he managed, shifting how he sat a little, so that they could tangle even closer together, “Are a savage,” and he gasped and arched as Lyos took that as an _invitation_ to bite at his neck, “Barbarian.”

“Is that a new observation, or a complaint, _vhenan'ara_?”

“Hardly _new,_ as observations go- not a complaint either, unless I find everyone staring at my neck or shoulder tomorrow, all trying to think up witty comments while leering knowingly.”

“Mm,” the elf kissed along his skin lazily, “They wouldn't manage much wit I am sure, being so jealous that you aren't _theirs_.”

Dorian felt that teasing claim burn deep into his chest. For a moment he was unsure how to handle the love and pride that lurked under those light-sounding words, he hardly deserved any of it, especially not from the Herald. The mage only just managed his bare retort of, “Well, of _course,_ ” before the timing was _completely_ off, “But still reactions and gossip it would be best to avoid.”

“Our reputations will not be damaged more than they already are,” the elf reassured him, “I am _just barely_ civilized enough to only raise lasting welts or bruises where they don't become public display. That's considered poor form without permission even among the clans.”

Dorian chuckled, “Well enjoy your savage ways while you can, _Amatus_. After all, next time, if I do recall correctly- you invited me to see just how much civilization I can make rub off on you.”

Lyos mock-growled, then chuckled as well, and smiled in a way that made Dorian's muscles tighten. “You do remember the deal, mage, and I quite intend to savage you a little more tonight, _especially_ now that you've reminded me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Eventually should be a second chapter for Dorian's turn. No set schedule for it though, alas.


End file.
